Following Orders
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: Part of the Natsumeseries contest. Sergeant Natsume Hyuuga first encountered her when she nearly got both of them killed. He's not worth enough to be followed like she does, but he knows she can't stop now; this is the Black-OPs.


This was initially meant to be multi-chaptered, but I refined it into a one-shot instead so it works for the Natsumeseries contest it was initially written for. Apologies to Vione and Romantically Hopeless for messing them around, as well as readers who tried to review only to discover I'd taken the initial story down. This is a bit of a whopper, but I couldn't fit it in anything less :D

For those who have already read half of this, scroll down to the line breaks where I denote where chapter 2 of the chaptered work ends and the new work begins.

The prompt was 'Natsume as a Secret Agent'

* * *

Sergeant Hyuuga Natsume pulled a dirty, half-crushed cigarette away from the corner of his mouth and blew the remainder of the smoke in her face; a truly contemptuous look worn on his.

"Just _w__hat _do you think you're getting in for, _Private _Sakura?" he growled, as the last wisps of smoke hissed between his lips. "Who do you think you're going to be working for?"

"I..." Private Sakura Mikan stammered. "I..."

"What were you even _thinking_, enlisting like that," he snarled, and took another drag on his cigarette. "It's too late to quit now, I hope you know." Another drag, and then a long exhale; Mikan wrinkled her nose in disdain, but Natusme obviously didn't care for her discomfort.

"Natsume... I thought..." Mikan whispered. Natsume spat on the ground beside them; his spit a dark brown from too much tobacco.

"I know what you thought!" he yelled. "But you thought _wrong!_" He paused, his rusty-brown eyes glancing down, and out of the corner of his mouth he pulled on his smoke again. "You're part of the Black-OPs, _Mikan_," he said, his voice strained as he pronounced her name, like it was hard for him to do so. "You forfeited your right to think _anything_."

Mikan looked down, and saw an end of ash tumble down from the end of Natsume's cigarette and smash on the floor. When she looked back up there were tears lining her eyes.

"They can have my thoughts," she said quietly. "They can have my body, Natsume; the Black-Ops can have all that." Her words became rushed, like if she didn't say them in time they'd be snatched away from her forever. "I don't mind if I have do missions on my own or work with other people, and I know it's going to be even more dangerous so _don't _try to tell me that like I don't know already. The Black-OPs can have anything they want...." She stared straight at him; right into his eyes without deviation. "But they _cannot _have my heart."

Natsume glared back at her. Why had she done this? To him, to _herself._ Why?

"Why's that?" he said scornfully, coughing at the back of his throat and then searing it with hot smoke pulled from his cigarette again. He knew the answer well enough, but he thought if he acted cruelly she'd be put off; maybe she'd deny it, maybe she wouldn't say it.

"Because it's not mine to give to anyone anymore," Mikan said quietly, closing her eyes as she breathed in and causing a tear to drop from one of her eyes and roll down her cheek. "Natsume," she pleaded; desperate to get through to him for just one moment, "it's yours."

He coughed suddenly into his cigarette and then it flew from his fingers and rolled, still smoking, to the ground until it sizzled out in a puddle.

"It's always been yours," she begged. "That's why I followed you..."

"No," he interrupted angrily. "_Don't say it."_ He didn't want to hear that; he couldn't let her say that it was _his_ fault she was here now, that she followed him stupidly into this organization, into _this _division, and forfeited her own freedom just for his sake. He was not _worth_ that much as a human being. Why had he even let her get involved at all?

The silence burned, and Natsume undressed her in his mind from all the filth and mud; the uniform with its emblems reminding him he was her superior, the standard-issue haircut, the cuts and the bruises of their trade. He looked for the Mikan he'd first met, before he came into her life and ruined it.

"_Why?_" he asked brokenly. "Why did you have to come, Mikan?"

Her answer came quicker than he expected, she didn't even hesitate.

"Because you shouldn't have to be alone."

Natsume shuddered, and then ran his fingers through his matted hair. He craved another cigarette.

Who was he kidding. He knew what he craved. In a flash he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, a low growl in the back of his throat as he pulled her tiny body against his and wrapped his arms around her, until he could grab his own biceps on either side. He pressed his face against her cheek and neck, drawing in her scent and clamming up her skin with his pungent tobacco-breath.

Slowly he felt her relax from the initial shock, and her hands slowly rose up his back, underneath his jacket and too, too close.

He moved and held her head in his hands; far from gently, and far from tenderly. He trembled with the strain in his hands and his fingertips left imprints in her skin; his expression was still furious and he held her almost as if he were trying to keep her away as much as to bring her closer. It was a hopeless struggle in the end.

He wanted to go back, he so desperately wanted to go back to before this happened, but he knew it was useless. The past cannot be changed, no matter how much you want it to, no matter how much you try.

Mikan had closed her eyes, and she felt almost tranquil in his hold. "Natsume," she murmured softly, and her fingers brushed against his skin underneath his shirt. They were cold. "Please..."

Their lips were almost touching now, their breaths shallow and shared. Sergeant Hyuuga could not do this, this was wrong on so many levels; it broke so many rules.

So why did he no longer care? He growled again and then pushed her face up to his, crushing her lips against his and kissing her hard. She reciprocated quickly, fisting her hands in his clothing and kissing him back as well as she could, but she wasn't the only one to notice two more tears roll down her face.

As if on cue, an alarm went off somewhere in the distance. Natsume drew his mouth away from hers and cursed, and then drove his lips back in for another rough kiss, and then another, and another. Eventually it was Mikan who forced her palms flat against his chest and pushed him back.

"I have to go... Sergeant," she murmured.

"Yes, the divison will be missing your presence," Natsume replied stiffly, suddenly jumping back into the responsibility that came with his uniform. "You have to go," he said, and glanced in the direction of the assembly point. He wiped his mouth with his thumb and grasped for his cigarettes. "Get to it... _Private_," he commanded, and Mikan broke into a jog and disappeared off into the dark streets.

He would be leaving the same way he got in, after all. Natsume lit another cigarette and inhaled heavily on it. If only he could've stopped her at the very beginning.

* * *

_The Black-OPs is a neutral organization, a Private Military, you could say, whose business it is to perform a number of security related roles for various national Governments around the world for nominal benefits..._

For example, they might gain leniency around national laws if they happen to break one or two going about their work, maybe a favourably passed bill here and there, and of course a financial 'donation' with every transaction.

The founder is a man known only as Persona, and only the most senior members of the Black-OPs ever see him in person. No one really knows _anything _about him, just what happens if you disobey orders. It isn't in the nature of recruits to ask questions anyway.

The Black-OPs has many divisions, which rarely communicate between one another unless they are directly cooperating on a mission. The less everyone knows about everyone else the better.

Sergeant Hyuuga is part of the Stealth division; nicknamed 'Black Cat' operations. He knows a few other divisions, like the hired muscles or the bodyguard unit, but most of his relations are confined solely within Black Cat. He'd been with them for a long time, a _long _time.

The work is dangerous, but challenging. He likes the skills he uses and solving problems in a high-pressure situation, he enjoys accomplishing what he is set to do, he likes the fact that what he does is not part of the great faceless daily grind of the masses. He hates it when he knows what he is doing was wrong, but he cannot not pick and choose which orders to obey and which to ignore.

If he has to destroy incriminating blackmail material being used by terrorist organisations, he follows orders.

If he has to _make _the incriminating evidence, he follows orders.

If he has to kill someone who could give incriminating evidence, he follows orders.

Although he is not often asked to kill though – Privates in Stealth do not have rank to do it at all, but at his level it happens every once in a while. Other divisions usually handle murders, like the assassination sub-division of the armed unit, but occasionally it comes up as Natsume's job to silence someone.

He does not mind it as much as he thought he would. He bears the guilt, of course, and that will never fade, and he will always have those faces in his nightmares among the rest of his past, but he feels curiously numb taking another human life. Then again, he feels curiously numb doing many things these days. Until _she_ became involved, but that is another story, which is yet to come.

* * *

Mikan Sakura first head-butted herself into Natsume's life aged 17, when she very nearly got him killed in a mission, and then some more.

Sergeant Hyuuga (Natsume) of the 'Black Cat' Stealth Division, in the private military organization Black-OPs, was told in briefing that he would be needing an aid for the next mission he was carrying out, and that for propriety's sake it would be a non-Black-OP worker because she might be needed to act as a witness, and witnesses were entirely too suspicious if they came from within the company.

Natsume argued against it – he would not need a witness because he would not fail, and he would not require an untrained aid in the first place because she would be more likely to hinder him than help him.

But the powers that be said it must be, and so a plucky young Mikan Sakura turned up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for her first day of work on the eve of the mission.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully, walking in through the door of a nondescript Black-OP agency office; her loose patterned skirt fluttering in the breeze. At first Natsume just stared at her in confusion, the end of his cigarette slowly burning down as his mouth hung open. "Are you Mr. Hyuuga?" she inquired, but he only continued to stare wordlessly.

"You are in the wrong place," Natsume eventually said, just managing to catch his smoke before it fell from his mouth completely. There was no way _this _could be the help they sent; she looked like she was expecting to be his _secretary_. She _had _to be in the wrong place.

"Am I?" she said in confusion. "But aren't you Mr. Hyuug..."

"_Sergeant," _he corrected. "I am _Sergeant _Hyuuga, and you cannot possible be M. Sakura."

"Yes! Mikan Sakura! That's me," she said brightly. "I'm _not_ in the wrong place then."

Natsume sighed. Sometimes he wondered how the executives in Black-OPs even got to their rank. They obviously didn't have a clue about what operatives _actually did_. But he knew already that he couldn't argue against orders; well, not if he knew what was good for him.

"Fine," he grunted, knocking the ash off the end of his cigarette into an empty coffee cup. "Lets go then." He got up and brushed himself down. He had standard Stealth Division uniform on, which was actually a full-body black jumpsuit; it was a bit odd looking on the streets of the city, but it was practical enough. He started walking towards the door, when he realized that Sakura looked like a girl who worked in a shop. That wasn't going to work. They were the _Stealth _division.

"Where did they pick _you_ from?" he asked gruffly.

"Huh? Oh!" Mikan said after a confused silence. "I'm... from a temping agency..." A temping agency. A goddammed _temping agency! _Natusme nearly spat his cigarette out in disgust. Just what that Narumi bastard was thinking when he decided this was entirely beyond him. He had some really stupid ideas.

"Is that a problem?" she asked timidly.

"Ngh," he grunted. "You'll need to change." He stood up and walked towards a door in the corner of the office; disappearing into it for a few minutes he returned with a small women's jumpsuit. He threw it to her across the room. She dropped it. "You'll also need to be able to catch," he said cruelly.

"Um... just what kind of job is this anyway?" Mikan questioned. She had obviously realized by now that this was not quite what she had been expecting.

"One unlike anything else you've ever done," Natsume barked. "Now change!" Mikan jumped, and in the stunned silence Natsume lit another cigarette, having finished his last one while rummaging around for a spare uniform. "What?" he growled after Mikan just stood there dumbly with the jumpsuit in her hands.

"Is there somewhere I can _go_ to change?" she asked modestly. Natsume rolled his eyes and took a heavy drag on his cigarette.

"Does it look like I care about seeing you in your underwear?" he snarled, blowing out a large puff of smoke. "Just get in the suit already!" Mikan continued to stare at him, and he continued to smoke angrily and glare back.

"Turn your back," she insisted. Natsume gave her a critical look.

"I've seen a woman naked before," he pointed out. "And one who _didn't _have the body of a young boy, either." He gave her a pointed look, and when Mikan clocked the insult her face turned red.

"Just turn your back!" she fumed. "You goddam pervert!"

Natsume scoffed, and after a little while gave in and turned his back to her, crossing his arms and occasionally taking a pull on his smoke. He could see her reflection in the window anyway, as the blinds were all closed and reflected perfectly. If he even had any desire in seeing her in her underwear anyway.

As soon as she was decent he turned back around.

"Right, lets go, strawberry print," he announced as he passed her towards the door; just as Mikan was about to throw a coffee cup at the back of his head in outrage, realizing that she'd been ogled in her underwear anyway and she'd hardly been here ten minutes, Natsume threw something over his shoulder that hit Mikan in the face.

When she caught it in her hands and discovered it was a hair tie.

"Tie it up," he instructed as he stubbed out his cigarette on the door frame and then threw it into the gutter outside. "This might get messy.

Natsume only thought it was a little bit of a disappointment that she followed orders – her willow-brown hair actually looked nicer when it wasn't balled up in a bun, but he was thankful she had obeyed him quietly this time. Perhaps she wouldn't be as bad as he expected.

* * *

She was, in fact, _worse_. The mission was being carried out under his command and with two Privates operating under him, _plus _Sakura as the neutral-witness-come-personal-assistant. It was relatively straightforward and only required low levels of illegality. Why they had chosen to lump Sakura on him _now _of all times was beyond him.

The basic mission brief was that there existed some files in the possession of a company CEO that needed to disappear in the next few days – Natsume did not know why, but that wasn't unusual – it was also known that the man carried them on his person at all times when he was not at home, so a simple interception in a public place was not a viable option.

The solution, therefore, was their mission; infiltrate his house and create an 'accident' that would sufficiently destroy all data banks or possible copies of the files.

"What are we doing?" Mikan asked Natsume as he gestured for her to get into an unlicensed car waiting in a by-street near the Black-OP office.

"You are not qualified to know that," he replied coldly, and climbed in the driver's seat. "Get in." Thankfully, Mikan did as she was told, and didn't ask any more questions until they pulled up at a designated meeting place to pick up Natsume's two Privates.

"Sergeant," they greeted him respectfully, before getting in the back seat of the car. "Who is she?" Private Manson – the older of the two – asked, pointing at Mikan inquisitively.

"She is my 'assisstant'" Natsume said begrudgingly. "Execs lumped me with her for some reason; she may need to testify if we screw up."

"If?" the younger of the Privates – Westlowe – questioned.

"We won't," Natsume said, "but in _case_. There's no arguing with the orders." Natsume swerved particularly viciously around a corner and Mikan yelped a little with shock.

"Well... uh, hi!" she said nervously, as if to explain herself, or justify her presence. "I'm Mikan, nice to meet you both." She turned around from the passenger seat to smile at them. The two Privates returned her rather bemused looks; they could not have been much older than she was.

"Private Westlowe," Westlowe offered.

"Private Manson," the other added.

"Well I hope we have a lot of fun working together!" Mikan cheered, and at that Natsume laughed cruelly. "What?" Mikan asked.

"Nothing, Sakura," he scoffed. "_Nothing_."

He left the grunt work of infiltrating the household to Westlowe and Manson, who worked as a team disabling the house alarm and finding a non-conspicuous entry-point, which was a carefully jimmied window. Natsume waited for them in the car still, smoking idly out the open car door.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know," Mikan said pointedly.

"A lot of things are bad for me," he countered, taking another drag on the cigarette.

"What... do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "You sit here in the car and do nothing." Mikan was very puzzled; this was a strange kind of house call, but before she could press the matter further Natsume saw a light signal from the house. He put out his cigarette and stood up out of the car. "Remember," he instructed. "You do nothing, you say nothing, you sit here and wait for us to come back."

"Well why did you hire me if I don't have anything to do?!" she said frustratedly.

"I _didn't_," Natsume snapped. "It wasn't my choice. So sit down and shut up." He flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter and started to approach the house. It was, of course, occupied by the CEO himself and his wife and family – or whatever he had; dogs, cats maybe.

Natsume met the Privates around the back.

"Ready to proceed, Sergeant," they announced strictly, although in little more than a whisper. Natsume pulled on a pair of thick gloves and then carefully vaulted in through the window. He crouched on the kitchen counter like a cat and listened; so far so good.

He climbed down carefully, and began to scan the room. He needed to target laptops, computers, filing cabinets and _particularly _the briefcase of the CEO. He crossed the floor almost silently, barely making a sound and leaving only a light dusting of footprints. In the living room he found a laptop perched atop of a stack of files. Instantly his mind clicked into analytical mode, and his eyes raced around the darkened room.

An ashtray on the coffee table, already with a few butts stubbed out in it: perfect. He pulled out his own pack of cigarettes and put one to his lips, then lighting it took a heavy drag. He let the smoke and nicotine flood his system, smirked faintly, and then after taking one more pull flicked the still lit item onto the edge of the papers, only a few inches away from the ashtray. This was going to be far too easy.

It occurred to him that the cigarette might not light in the way he required it to, so he reached into a back pocket on his suit and pulled out a small canister with a spray on the end. He clicked it on and sprayed a fine film of the special chemical mix onto the files piled up on the coffee table. Almost immediately the ember from the end of his cigarette brightened and began to singe the papers it was on.

Natsume knew he had to be thorough, though, so after he had located the fire alarm and replaced the batteries with a set of dead ones he had on his person, he carried on through the house; he still needed to find a briefcase. The rest of the bottom floor was uninteresting, so he proceeded upstairs, treading carefully up the wooden steps so as not to make them squeak or creak.

He found an office, after passing what he could only assume to be a child's bedroom, but the office door was unfortunately locked. This was a slight problem, but not one that would hold him back for long. Natsume dropped to his knees and produced a lock pick, and after a short while he snapped the lock open, and could easily turn the handle.

Inside the office there were a number of filing cabinets and another personal computer; the latter would have to go, but the cabinets were necessary to destroy, but the question was _how_. Luckily, he also took note of an expensive looking briefcase propped up against a desk leg. It would've been troublesome if the guy had kept it in his bedroom. Then again it was probably more sensible in his mind to leave it in a locked room.

Wheels in Natsume's mind whizzed, and then clicked into a solution. He walked up to one of the smooth plaster walls and put his ear against it; he tapped his fingers against the wall a few times, then moved along the wall a little and tapped again. Eventually he stopped, and reached for a small tool from his jumpsuit.

He pressed the point of the all-purpose cutting tool against the wall and then bashed his fist against it a few times. The sharp edge cut easily through the plaster and clinked against metal: bingo. Natsume drew his fist back and gave the head of the tool one last thump, and with a clank it split into the pipe and started to leak water down the wall.

Now he had to get the water into the briefcase, cabinets and computer; without moving anything. He crossed his arms again. This was the challenging part of the work, and he actually grinned a little when he cracked upon a solution.

He knelt down to the floor below the flow of water and found – as he expected – insulated cables being run around the outside of the room to power the computer. Standing so only his feet touched the ground, Natsume carefully took the cutting tool and sliced open the wire where water passed. His insulated boots and gloves prevented his own electrocution, of course.

The wire started shorting immediately, and with a little help from a flame inducing gel Natsume was able to start an electrical fire, which he ran all the way down the length of the extension cables and thoroughly damaged the computer. Only the briefcase remained, but that was conveniently positioned right next to an already-overloaded set of socket outlets. Natsume sprayed a generous coat of the fire-accelerating formula over the sockets, wiggled them a bit until they made sparks and hey presto, destroyed information. Content that everything would now play out as he predicted, Natsume left the room and came downstairs again.

Only things _weren't _as he predicted, because _she _was not as he predicted.

As he came back downstairs he discovered not two but three people waiting outside for him.

"You were to stay in the car," he said tersely.

"What have you done in there?!" Mikan yelled _far _too loud, and Manson grabbed her shoulders and clapped his gloved hand over her mouth.

"Nothing that will harm anyone," Natsume answered. "I sabotaged only two alarms, once the heat and smoke reach the other rooms the alarms will go off and the residents will be perfectly safe." Mikan struggled against Manson and then ripped his hand from her mouth.

"Safe?! Safe?!! Fires are _never _safe!! Why am I here if you were going to be committing these crimes?!" she screamed, and now Natsume himself grabbed and silenced her.

"You're not _supposed _to be here," he hissed angrily. "And we're more than just criminals; however, some fool with more rank than me decided you had to come along, and lumped you with me so unless you want to be rendered unconscious in the next ten seconds I would _shut your goddam mouth_, Sakura." She went limp, and then quiet, so Natsume cautiously removed his hand from her mouth.

But in that second he relaxed his grip she bolted forwards and leapt in through the window faster than he could even catch her; what kind of temping agency was this?! One for trained athletes?

"Keep your places!" Natsume barked at the Privates before diving back through the window to catch her. She wasn't hard to find because she was fortunately screaming her head off running around. He caught her in the kitchen filling a bucket with water.

"What the f**k do you think you're doing?!" he yelled at her, but she ran out the other exit before he could catch her and into the lounge, where the first fire he'd started was: one that was now burning nicely. Natsume realized in a split second what she was going to do with that water. Shit. "NO!" he screamed. The accelerate he used was oil based, it saturated papers and made them fatty, so if you poured water on them...

Just as he shouted, she sloshed the bucket over the fire and it burst into giant roaring flames, very nearly pulling _her _in, and setting fire to several things surrounding them, like the already-dried out antique-so-not-fire-retardant sofa nearby. Shitmotherf**kbastard.

Sergeant Hyuuga was now in some _serious _trouble.

* * *

_End of where the chaptered fic finished. Unposted material starts here._

_

* * *

_Sergeant Hyuuga Natsume yelled so hard it hurt as his 'assistant' Mikan threw a bucket of water over an oil-based fire, and as any pyrotechnic enthusiast should know a huge column of fire engulfed the surrounding area. The largest of the flames died out quickly, but the damage had already been done and the situation was now severely out of control.

"DON'T!" Natsume snarled, running toward and grabbing Mikan by the collar, then pulling her body back against his, "you do that again." Mikan whimpered a little and her eyes streamed from the heat. Natsume realized they needed to get out of there _now_, and the tiny window was a fast disappearing option with the time they had left, not to mention this girl was probably flash-blinded and hugely disorientated thanks to the blast she had front-seat to.

He went for the front door; one fierce kick smashed it open and he dragged her out the front.

"You can't... there's people..." Mikan moaned as she scrubbed her eyes. Natsume realized that there was now a much larger fire and a much greater chance of injury or fatality to the family now. Not to mention he had now smashed open the front door from the inside. They had _kids_, dammit. He loosened his grip on Mikan and not the second after she ducked under his arm and ran back into the house. Natsume asked himself why he'd thought it was a good idea to even let go in the first place. She obviously couldn't be trusted.

Mikan staggered back into the house and coughed at the quickly building up smoke. Natsume had of course broken their fire alarm in that room so it was going unalarmed, so she began to run upstairs to find the family, quickly pursued by Natsume. He snatched up a walkie Talkie and radioed the Privates.

"Abort," he commanded. "Take the car and get out. I will cover this up. We were never here,, we know nothing about it, Black-OPs should show no reason to ever be involved."

"Sergeant..." Manson radioed back.

"OUT!" Natsume bellowed, and snapping it back to his side he raced up after Mikan. She was stumbling around the upper landing bashing on door, but the first one she picked to open just _had _to be the office he'd already incinerated.

Luckily he was able to sprint towards her and grab her before she could open the door, but she struggled against him furiously.

"Stop... _murderer_!" she squealed, and at that word Natsume's blood ran cold. He slammed her back against the door and glared at her hotly, his face no more than inches from hers.

"You got me _into _this situation," he said furiously. "No one would've been hurt until you got involved. _Don't _you call me a murderer, and why don't you calm the f**k down and let me handle this."

"Isn't that what you said before?!" she screamed. "Look how it's turned out!" Enraged, Natsume pulled her off the door and slammed her back against it, disregarding whether he hurt her or not. In fact the intention was _to_ hurt her.

"Stop!" he roared; his chest already hurt. "Stop arguing while people could DIE and just _follow me!"_ Although at the time he hadn't realized just how far that order would be taken, right then Mikan finally gave in.

"Let's go...then," she said, and then closed her hand around the sleeve of his suit. "You're right. I'll follow."

Natsume nodded, and then made straight for the child's room. There was a small girl and a boy asleep in bunk beds; they could've been twins. He glanced at Mikan and she seemed to get the idea, bending down she gently shook awake the girl in the lower bed and picked her up. Natsume heard her speaking quietly to the girl as she awoke.

"Okay, Princess," she murmured. "There's an emergency, but don't worry we're going to look after you. Can you be good for me and hold onto my neck, ok?" Picking up the girl and hugging her to her chest, Natsume picked up the boy in a similar way, wrapping him in his blankets for safety.

Natsume would've _normally _ordered Mikan to take both children out herself while he roused the adults, but this was not normal protocol and she was not a Private; she was also not to be trusted. There was still only minimal smoke in the hallway, but there could be more in the bedroom so Natsume decided it was best to take the children out first then go back for the rest of the family.

Outside he and Mikan set down the children and Natsume turned to go back in.

"Stay with them," he told Mikan. "I won't be long. Call the fire Service." He tossed her his phone; unsure whether he would've risked this much on a simple mission if she had not been there to endanger herself unless he did the right thing first, but he didn't have a choice right now.

Back inside the smoke was building up, and Natsume coughed a few times as he sprinted back upstairs, and on the landing he stopped for a moment to pull a mask from his pocket and put it on; it would protect his identity from the CEO and also cut down his smoke inhalation. He then burst into the master bedroom.

"Sir, Maam," he began loudly. "There is a fire in the house. You need to get out." The woman in the bed woke first, and started screaming as she smelt the smoke. "Maam _calm down!" _Natsume said authoritatively. "Please get up and follow me." By now her Husband had woken, and appeared very confused. Natsume advanced and helped the lady up by gripping her upper arm. "With me, maam," he instructed, and made a similar gesture to her husband.

"Who are you?!" the husband – the very CEO whom had been targeted in this mission.

"I am no one," Natsume said. "A passerby. You need to get out." The man was quiet for a few moments, as his wife pulled on a nightgown.

"I need my briefcase!" the CEO spluttered. "My laptop! My files!"

"Those things have to be left," Natsume said as he ushered his wife towards the door. "There isn't time."

"There is time!" he retorted viciously. "I need them!"

"You _don't_!" Natsume snarled, punching the wall next to the man to emphasise the severity of the situation. "You need your life, and those of your children." The woman on his arm gasped suddenly. "Do not worry, they are already safe," Natsume assured her. "Now please come with me."

It looked as if the CEO was going to resist further, but at the mention of his children and after a look from his wife, he came without further objection. Outside the house Mikan was holding onto both of the children, but let go as Natsume appeared with the last two occupants of the house. Their mother rushed forwards, already in tears, and embraced her kids.

"Oh thank god!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "My children! Thank god!" Mikan smiled at the reunion, and even appeared to smile openly at Natsume until suddenly the happy scene was disturbed by a strange click.

The man was pointing a small handgun right at Natsume.

"Who do you work for?!" he bellowed. "Tell me!"

"No one," Natsume replied coldly. "I am nothing." Mikan was at this point a little disturbed by how desolate and convinced Natsume sounded of his own unimportance; of course it could be an act, but what if he really did think he wasn't important to anyone, even himself?

"_Liar_! Tell me!" the man yelled, and jerked the end of his gun at him. "Or I'll shoot you and identify you _that _way."

"Then shoot me," Natsume said disinterestedly. "I'm worthless to you."

Mikan started to panic, as she didn't think it was a sensible thing to do to tell someone pointing a gun at you to shoot you. She didn't think Natsume should be so flippant with his own life.

"What are you doing?!" the man's wife yelped.

"He's not just some passer-by, dear," the CEO said angrily. "This isn't a coincidence. I'm sure these two were the ones who _started _all this, and I'm surprised they didn't just leave us here to die."

"Perhaps I should've," Natsume snapped. "For all the gratitude I've got." The man became visibly angered, and his hand holding the gun shook.

"WHO SENT YOU?!" he screamed, and then Mikan suddenly sensed he was going to shoot. In a flash she was off her feet and leapt for the man. He saw Mikan jump at him and then in shock pulled the trigger while still aiming at Natsume, but this was just as Mikan collided with his body and drove his aim slightly off course.

Natsume dropped his shoulder and recoiled backwards, appearing at first to have been hit by the shot, but as he flexed, regained his balance and straightened again it was evident he had dodged the bullet.

"We are no one," he repeated. "Look to the enemies you know, instead of chasing the dark night air." He moved suddenly and grabbed Mikan's wrist, and then together they ran away into the night.

As soon as they were out of earshot Natsume ripped off his mask and exploded.

"Are you f**kig kidding me?!" he shouted. "You nearly got us killed!"

"He was going to shoot you!" Mikan protested. "I was trying to save you!"

"He shot _because _you jumped for him," Natsume snapped. "I had the situation under control."

"And what good did it do us at _any _point?" she said caustically.

"That was your fault," he spat. "_You_ got involved and _f**ked_ everything up!"

"If it weren't for me they could've DIED!" Mikan screamed. "You damn murderer!" At this Natsume lost control of his temper again, and threw his entire body weight against Mikan as they jogged down the street, tackling her to the ground heavily and rolling over and on top of her a few times. They finished up with him lying on top of her pushing her down by her shoulders.

"DON'T you call me that!" he snarled. "_Don't_ you call me a murderer!" He was wildly angry, and Mikan genuinely feared what he could do to her. "YOU got involved, YOU fucked things up, YOU nearly got EVERYONE killed and I do NOT kill innocent people! _I DO NOT!_!" With every word Natsume's voice strained more and more, until he was just screaming hoarsely at her in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.

She lay below him in stunned terror, and then consciously became aware of how their bodies were pressed together, and how intensely angry he was both in temperament _and _body. She realized she could feel his breath on her face, she noticed he was quite good looking, and she felt his knee between her legs. For one moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but this was no romance novel and after a little while he simple pushed himself away.

Natsume felt for his cigarettes and lit up one; inhaling deeply and trying to soothe his nerves.

"I'm... sorry," Mikan said quietly. "I didn't mean to..."

"Shut up," Natsume hissed. "I don't need your sympathy." He pulled again on his smoke and growled at the back of his throat. She hadn't meant to upset him like that, and she could _tell _he was upset. People don't get that angry over just anything.

Half way through his cigarette Natsume stood again.

"He might send people after us," he warned her. "We need to keep going."

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"To the nearest safehouse," he replied. "I'll keep low until tomorrow and then present. You can just go home." He paused for a moment, and then added, "dismissed."

"No," Mikan retorted almost as soon as Natsume had made the order. "I helped make this mess; I'll stay to deal with it." Natsume laughed cruelly.

"It's a nice sentiment," he sneered. "But not one that will do either of us any good. Go home, Sakura. Have a bath or something." He took the last few drags on his cigarette and then flicked it into a gutter. "Whatever you girls get up to."

"I said I'm not going," she repeated stubbornly.

"I'm not giving you a choice," Natsume snapped.

"Well you're not my boss!" Mikan yelled.

"Of course I am!" he shouted. "YOU just don't follow orders!" Mikan was silent now. Natsume had no idea or care to know what she was thinking, but after a while she stood up.

"I'm sorry I disobeyed orders," she said meekly, "_sir_. It won't happen again." Natsume chuckled and pulled on his cigarette again.

"No sweat," he said. "I was like that once too."

"Like what?"

"Free-minded, independent, disobedient." Natsume chuckled. "My line of work trains it out of you."

"What _is _your line of work?" she questioned. "Are you just criminals or..."

"No," he cut her off. "We're Black-OP; a private military company. Just mercenaries, basically. Sometimes the good guys hire us, sometimes the bad." He didn't feel the need to hide anything from her. The existence of Black-OP was not a secret; their operations, maybe, but not their existence, so he could speak freely to her about them.

"Was it a good guy or a bad guy we robbed back then?" Mikan inquired – endless curiosity usually irritated Natsume, but he was still feeling guilty about losing his temper with her: it wasn't her fault, and he shouldn't have let his sensitivities get the better of him. He should be stronger than flipping out at a girl like her over something like being called a murderer.

Natsume laughed; a crackly and dry smokers' laugh, and then inhaled on his cigarette again. "A bit of both," he said wryly.

"Oh," Mikan mumbled. "Well, why do you think I was hired?" she asked after a little while, when Natsume had stood up and they both continued to walk – it was still a way back into the city and they had no form of transport. Walking was good for you anyway.

"I don't know," he replied honestly; although, in the back of his mind he had begun to suspect what Narumi had been thinking partnering this girl with him. "You don't get many choices in our company," he added, lighting another cigarette as they walked side by side.

Mikan was quiet again for a while, like she was thinking about something carefully.

"How long have you been in the Black-OPs?"

Natsume pulled on his cigarette; he attempted to count the years.

"Nearly ten," he answered, "I think. I've been here so long it gets harder and harder to tell." He joined the Black-OPs, or, more appropriately he was recruited when he had just turned seventeen.

"Are they..." Mikan asked, and then stopped herself. "Are you being kept... forcefully?" Natsume laughed out loud at this and bellowed out puffs of smoke.

"No," he answered honestly. "As much as I hate some of the work, I don't think I could ever do anything else. I feel alive working here," he admitted to her. "I wouldn't ever want to waste my life doing pointless things repetitively; I want some meaning. This job is my life." He meant that, he really meant those words; he had a minimal social life at best, no girlfriends, no pets. The friends he did have – not that there were many – were all part of his work, and the most important thing in his life _was _his job. It was who he was.

"Oh," Mikan replied, and if Natsume didn't know better he suspected she thought that was a little bit sad. She wouldn't be the first to have thought that, but Natsume had stopped caring a long time ago. It's not like he could be happy in any situation, so he might as well be here as opposed to being even more unhappy somewhere else.

A siren became audible in the distance, and with incredibly fast reactions Natsume pulled himself and Mikan off the road into a shadowy alcove between houses. He pulled her body close against his and crammed out of site as the fire engine approached and sped past them; crushing his cigarette out against the wall so as not to make them visible, he exhaled over her and his hot, sharply smokey breath wrapped around her.

It was this time that _he _noticed how close and intimately pressed together they were, and it almost made him scowl out of the uncomfortableness that realization brought. The moment the vehicle was a safe distance away he pushed her back straight away and started walking again. He didn't have time to notice Mikan's face was in fact bright red.

"You really should go home," he told her curtly. "I'll handle this situation on my own." He was good at doing things on his own. Being on his own was pretty much all Natsume knew.

"But..." Mikan protested weakly. "I still have this uniform and..."

"Keep it," he snapped. "I don't need you around. You'll only cause trouble." He could tell he was hurting her feelings, but that was of course the point.

"Okay," she murmured, her face looking down at the floor. "If you say so..." It sounded like she wanted to use his name, but she didn't know it. Natsume could give her that at least.

"Natsume," he said. "It's Natsume."

"Okay, Natsume," Mikan said a little more cheerfully, but for the rest of the walk she was more or less silent; Natsume thought that he'd managed to push her away – he was, after all, pretty exceptional at doing that.

"Bye," he said formally when they finally reached a bus stop and Mikan was able to get home. "Your things will be sent back to you; I'll do it when I get back in the office." He meant her dress and shirt, and anything else she might have left there.

"Thank you, Natsume," she said with a smile. "I'll see you around."

"No," he said caustically. "You won't." Of this he was convinced. He could explain himself to his superiors and cover up the semi-bungled mission, so Sakura wouldn't be needed again, and she could most likely continue on with the rest of her ignorantly happy life never thinking about this night or him again.

Only, this was a hard line to push when the next afternoon – after Natsume had escaped his debriefing with only a mild warning, as he was one of their prodigal agents and had covered his tracks pretty impeccably – he returned to the same Agency Office to find someone sitting behind the desk he had been 'occupying', namely, keeping his cigarettes in.

"Huh?" he grunted as he recognised her long hair; plaited, today. "You're..."

"Who would've guessed it," Mikan Sakura said with a mischievous grin, as she turned around on her heels and laced her fingers together behind her back. "The Black-Ops wanted to hire me _full time_ as your assistant, Natsume. We'll be working together_ all the time_ from now on."

Natsume wasn't sure if he should smash his head through a wall or simply tell her to stop screwing with him. There's no way they could have _actually... _

Until she presented him with her contract, which was genuine and authorized by Major Narumi – _that bastard!_ Natsume shook his head slowly in disbelief. There's no way this could be happening.

"So what are we doing today, Natsume?" Mikan asked cheekily, and Natsume felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach with her words; the same sort of uncomfortable as he had felt when her thin delicate frame was flush against his.

"If you're to be working under me," he growled, "it's going to be _Sergeant _Hyuuga, and 'we're' not doing _anything_." He grunted. "Well, until I get another briefing." He lit a cigarette and smoked it worriedly. He suddenly doubted if he would survive the week. "Well aren't you going to change?" he snapped at her; there was no reason for her to need to change, but he was feeling malicious.

"Oh, yes! I brought my suit with me today anyway," Mikan said brightly, and then with a conspicuous look she stepped into one of the large storage cupboards in the agency to change.

Natsume leant against his desk and finished his cigarette – that should be enough time. He strode up to the cupboard and pulled the door open, ignoring the scream that followed as he reached up above Mikan's head and picked up a small box from a shelf.

"Out of staples," he said with a smirk as he cast her one look up and down, "Polka dots."

"You don't even have a stapler!" she screamed back at him as he closed the door again, having turned off the light as well, leaving her in darkness to blunder about.

Maybe it wouldn't be _all _bad. He thought with a grin as he returned to his desk and put his feet up on it. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad at all.

* * *

_However_, things were not always so cheerful as that. The Black-OPs was not called the Rainbow-OPs for a reason, and it was a few missions until it finally hit Natsume that Mikan was a part of them now, and a month before he discovered that she had _begged _Narumi to give her the job, for which he screamed his head off at her for a good half hour.

Bit by bit he realized he was responsible in some way for her joining, and when she was hit by a stray bullet inches away from her vital organs a month after that, he began to worry and blame himself.

The more times she accompanied him on a mission the closer they got to screwing up or dying, as she always intervened and ruined plans in _some _way or another, but his stats actually _improved,_ and he found himself four months without a lost or even injured life on his conscience. He started to care more, and he took bigger risks, because even if he wanted to keep her as safe from harm as possible he knew if he didn't try to get a hundred and ten percent success she would stick her own neck out and go for it anyway. So he worked harder, to protect her and to better himself.

He knew he was developing feelings for her, even if he denied it to his closest friends, and the breaking point finally came when he heard she had requested to be initiated and trained as a Private in Black Cat, so that she would be able to follow him up the ranks as he was promoted – because, thanks to her, his superiors wouldn't stop talking about it and he had at last developed a sense of ambition.

As his assistant he could protect her and keep her as safe as Mikan Sakura could ever be, but he knew all too well that if she became a Private under him she would be sent on missions – missions _without _him. The thought of that terrified him more than he even cared to admit to _himself_, and on her first training exercise he stole into the compound and snatched her away from the back of her group, dragging her into a quiet spot and pinning her against a wall.

"What are you doing?!" he growled through his cigarette... _"Just what do you think you're getting yourself in for..."_

_

* * *

_And the whole thing comes round full circle! I know this was long, but I hope I didn't bore anyone too much :D Thanks to Vione and RH for setting this challenge, and good luck to all the other contestants in the Natsumeseries contest. Leave a review to show your support :D


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